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A  D  D  E  E  S  S 


DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE 


LITERARY     SOCIETIES 


AMHERST    COLLEGE. 


aCujJUst  25,  1835. 


BY  EDWARD  EVERETT. 


PUBLISHED    BY    REQUEST. 


BOSTON: 

RUSSELL,    SHATTUCK,    &   WILLIAMS 

1835. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1835,  by  Russell, 
Shattuck,  &  Williams,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the 
District  of  Massachusetts. 


J.    D.    FREEMAN,    PRINTER. 

No.  110  Washington  Street. 


ADDRESS. 


The  place  of  our  meeting,  the  season  of  the  year,  and  the 
occasion,  which  has  called  us  together,  seem  to  prescribe  to  us 
the  general  topics  of  our  discourse.  We  are  assembled  within 
the  precincts  of  a  place  of  education.  It  is  the  season  of  the 
year,  at  which  the  seminaries  of  learning  throughout  the  coun- 
try are  dismissing  to  the  duties  of  life  that  class  of  their  students, 
whose  collegiate  course  is  run.  The  immediate  call,  which 
has  brought  us  together  at  this  time,  is  the  invitation  of  the 
members  of  the  literary  societies  of  this  highly  respectable  and 
fast  rising  institution,  who,  agreeably  to  academical  usage,  on 
the  eve  of  their  departure  from  a  spot  endeared  to  them,  by  all 
the  pleasant  associations  of  collegiate  life,  are  desirous,  by  one 
more  act  of  literary  communion,  to  strengthen  the  bond  of 
intellectual  fellowship  and  alleviate  the  regrets  of  separation. 
In  the  entire  uncertainty  of  all  that  is  before  us,  for  good  or 
for  evil,  there  is  nothing  so  nearly  certain,  as  that  we,  who  are 
here  assembled  to-day,  shall  never,  in  the  Providence  of  God, 
be  all  brought  together  again  in  this  world.  Such  an  event  is 
scarcely  more  within  the  range  of  probability,  than  that  the 
individual  drops,  which,  at  this  moment,  make  up  the  rushing 
stream  of  yonder  queen  of  the  valley,  mounting  in  vapor  to 
the  clouds  and  scattered  to  the  four  winds,  will,  at  some  future 
period,  be  driven  together  and  fall  in  rains  upon  the  hills,  and 
flow  down  and  recompose  the  identical  river,  that  is  now  spread- 
ing abundance  and  beauty,  before  our  eyes.  To  say  nothing  of 
the  dread  summons,  which  comes  to  all  when  least  expected, 
you  will  scarce  step  out  of  this  sanctuary  of  your  intellectual 
worship,  before  you  will  find  how  widely  the  paths  of  life  di- 


verge,  not  more  so  In  the  literal  sense  of  the  word,  than  in  the 
estrangement,  which  results  from  variety  of  pursuit,  opinion, 
party,  and  success.  Influenced  by  the  feelings,  which  this 
reflection  inspires,  it  is  natural  that  we  should  pause  ; — that  we 
should  give  our  minds  up  to  the  meditations,  which  belong  to 
the  place,  to  the  occasion,  and  the  day  : — that  we  should  in- 
quire into  the  character  of  that  general  process,  in  which  you 
are  now  taking  so  important  a  step  ; — that  we  should  put  our 
thoughts  in  harmony  with  the  objects,  that  surround  us,  and 
thus  seek  from  the  hour  as  it  flies,  from  the  occasion,  which 
once  passed  will  never  in  all  its  accidents  and  qualifications 
return,  to  extract  some  abiding  good  impression,  and  to  carry 
away  some  memorial,  that  will  survive  the  moment. 

The  multiplication  of  the  means  of  education  and  the  gen- 
eral diffusion  of  knowledge,  at  the  present  day,  are  topics  of 
universal  remark.  There  are  twelve  collegiate  institutions,  in 
New  England,  whose  commencement  is  observed,  during  the 
months  of  August  and  September,  and  which  will  send  forth 
the  present  year,  on  an  average  estimate,  about  four  hundred 
graduates.  There  are  more  than  fifty  other  institutions  of  the 
same  general  character,  in  other  parts  of  the  United  States. 
The  greater  portion  of  them  are  in  the  infancy  of  their  exist- 
ence and  usefulness,  but  some  of  them  compare  advantageously 
with  our  New  England  institutions.  Besides  the  colleges, 
there  are  the  schools  for  theological,  medical,  and  legal  edu- 
cation, on  the  one  hand  ;  and  on  the  other,  the  innumerable 
institutions  for  preparatory  or  elementary  instruction,  from  the 
infant  schools,  to  which  the  fond  and  careful  mother  sends  her 
darling  lisper,  not  yet  quite  able  to  articulate,  but  with  the 
laudable  purpose  of  getting  him  out  of  the  way,  up  to  the  high 
schools  and  endowed  academies,  which  furnish  a  competent 
education  for  all  the  active  duties  of  life.  Besides  these  es- 
tablishments for  education  of  various  character  and  name, — 
societies  for  the  promotion  of  useful  knowledge,  mechanics' 
institutes,  lyceums,  and  voluntary  courses  of  lectures,  abound 
in  many  parts  of  the  country,  and  perform  a  very  important 
office,  in  carrying  on  the  great  work  of  instruction.  Lastly, 
the  press,  by  the  cheap  multiplication  of  books,  and  especially 


by  the  circulation  of  periodical  works  of  every  form  and  de- 
scription, has  furnished  an  important  auxiliary  to  every  other 
instrument  of  education,  and  turned  the  whole  community,  so 
to  say,  into  one  great  monitorial  school.  There  is  probably 
not  a  newspaper  of  any  character  published  in  the  United 
States,  which  does  not,  in  the  course  of  the  year,  convey  more 
useful  information  to  its  readers,  than  is  to  be  found  in  the 
twenty-one  folios  of  Albertus  Magnus, — light  as  he  was  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  I  class  all  these  agencies,  under  the  gen- 
eral name  of  the  means  of  education,  because  they  form  one 
grand  system,  by  which  knowledge  is  imparted  to  the  mass 
of  the  community,  and  the  mind  of  the  age, — with  the  most 
various  success  according  to  circumstances, — is  instructed, 
disciplined,  and  furnished  with  its  materials  for  action  and 
thought. 

These  remarks  are  made  in  reference  to  this  country  ;  but  in 
some  countries  of  Europe,  all  the  means  of  education  enumer- 
ated, with  an  exception  perhaps  in  the  number  of  newspapers, 
exist  to  as  great  an  extent,  as  in  our  own.  Although  there 
are  portions  of  Europe,  where  the  starless  midnight  of  the 
mind  still  covers  society,  with  a  pall  as  dreary  and  impervi- 
ous, as  in  the  middle  ages,  yet  it  may  be  safely  said,  upon  the 
whole,  that  not  only  in  America,  but  in  the  elder  world,  a 
wonderfully  extensive  diffusion  of  knowledge  has  taken  place. 
In  Great  Britain,  in  France,  in  Germany,  in  Holland,  in  Sweden, 
in  Denmark,  the  press  is  active,  schools  are  numerous,  higher 
institutions  for  education  abound,  associations  for  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge  flourish,  and  literature  and  science,  in  almost 
every  form,  are  daily  rendered  more  cheap  and  accessible. 
There  is  in  fact  no  country  in  Europe,  from  which  the  means 
of  light  are  wholly  shut  out.  There  are  universities  in  Austria 
and  Russia,  and  newspapers  at  Madrid  and  Constantinople. 

It  is  the  impulse  of  the  liberal  mind  to  rejoice  in  this  mani- 
fest progress  of  improvement,  and  we  are  daily  exchanging 
congratulations  with  each  other,  on  the  multiplication  through- 
out the  world  of  the  means  of  education.  There  are  not 
wanting,  however,  those,  who  find  a  dark  side  even  to  such 
an  object  as  this.  We  ought  not  therefore  either  to  leave  a 
matter  so  important  exposed  to  vague  prejudicial  surmises,  on 


the  one  hand  ;  nor  on  the  other,  should  we  rest  merely  in  the 
impulses  of  liberal  feeling  and  unreflecting  enthusiasm.  We 
should  fortify  ourselves,  in  a  case  of  such  magnitude,  in  an  en- 
hghtened  conviction.  We  should  seek  to  reduce  to  an  exact 
analysis  the  great  doctrine,  that  the  extension  of  the  means  of 
education  and  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge  are  beneficial 
to  society.  It  is  the  object  of  the  present  address  to  touch 
briefly, — and  in  the  somewhat  desultory  manner  required  on 
such  an  occasion, — on  some  of  the  prominent  points,  involved 
in  this  great  subject ;  and  to  endeavor  to  show  that  the  dif- 
fusion of  knowledge,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  is  favorable 
to  liberty,  to  science,  and  virtue ; — to  social,  intellectual,  and 
spiritual  improvement ;  the  only  three  things  which  deserve  a 
name  below. 

I.  Although  liberty,  strictly  speaking,  is  only  one  of  the 
objects,  for  which  men  have  united  themselves  in  civil  societies, 
it  is  so  intimately  connected  with  all  the  others,  and  every 
thing  else  is  so  sunk  in  value,  when  liberty  is  taken  away, 
that  its  preservation  may  be  considered,  humanly  speaking,  the 
great  object  of  life  in  civilized  communities.  It  is  so  essential 
to  the  prosperous  existence  of  nations,  that  even  where  the 
theory  of  the  government,  as  in  many  absolute  monarchies, 
seems  to  subvert  its  very  principle,  by  making  it  depend  on 
the  will  of  the  ruler,  yet  usage,  prescription,  and  a  kind  of 
beneficent  instinct  of  the  body  politic,  secure  to  the  people 
some  portion  of  practical  liberty.  Where  political  interests 
and  passions  do  not  interfere,  (whicli  they  rarely  do,  in  respect 
to  the  private  rights  of  the  mass  of  the  community,)  the 
subjects  of  the  absolute  monarchies  of  the  north  and  east  of 
Europe  enjoy  almost  as  large  a  share  of  liberty,  as  under  some 
of  what  are  called  the  constitutional  governments,  in  their 
neighborhood.  Where  this  is  not  the  case,  where  a  despotic 
theory  of  the  government  is  carried  out  into  a  despotic  admin- 
istration ;  and  life,  rights,  and  property  are  habitually  sacrificed 
to  the  caprice  and  passions  of  men  in  power,  as  in  all  the 
despotisms  which  stretch  across  Asia,  from  the  Euxine  to  the 
Pacific,  there  the  population  is  kept  permanently  degenerate, 
barbarous,  and  wretched. 


Whenever  we  speak  of  liberty,  in  this  connexion,  we  com- 
prehend under  it  legal  security  for  life,  personal  freedom,  and 
property.  As  these  are  equally  dear  to  all  men  ;  as  all  feel, 
with  equal  keenness  and  bitterness,  the  pang  which  extinguishes 
existence,  the  chain  which  binds  the  body,  the  coercion  which 
makes  one  toil  for  another's  benefit,  it  follows,  as  a  necessary 
consequence,  that  all  governments,  which  are  hostile  to  liberty, 
are  founded  on  force  ;  that  all  despotisms  are,  what  some  by 
emphasis  are  occasionally  called,  military  despotisms.  The 
degree  of  force  required  to  hold  a  population  in  subjection, 
other  things  being  equal,  is  in  inverse  ratio  to  its  intelligence 
and  skill ;  its  acquaintance  with  the  arts  of  life  ;  its  sense  of  the 
worth  of  existence  ;  in  fine,  to  its  spirit  and  character.  There 
is  a  point  indeed  beyond  which,  the  most  thoroughly  organized 
military  despotism  cannot  be  extended  over  the  least  intellec- 
tual race  of  subjects,  serfs,  or  slaves.  History  presents  us  with 
the  record  of  numerous  servile  wars  and  peasants  wars,  from  the 
days  of  Spartacus  to  those  of  Tupac- Amaru  and  Pugatschef ; 
in  which,  at  the  first  outbreak,  all  the  advantages  of  authority, 
arms,  concert,  discipline,  skill,  have  availed  the  oppressor  no- 
thing, against  humanity's  last  refuge,  the  counsel  of  madness, 
and  the  resources  of  despair. 

There  are  two  ways,  in  which  liberty  is  promoted  by  the 
general  diffusion  of  knowledge.  The  first  is  by  disaibusing  the 
minds  of  men  of  the  theoretical  frauds,  by  which  arbitrary 
governments  are  upheld.  It  is  a  remark  almost,  if  not  quite, 
without  exception,  that  all  governments  unfriendly  to  well- 
regulated  liberty  are  founded  on  the  basis  of  some  religious 
imposture ;  the  arm  of  military  violence  is  clothed  with  the 
enervating  terrors  of  superstition.  The  Oriental  nations,  as  far 
back  as  our  accounts  run,  worshipped  their  despots  as  divinities, 
and  taught  this  monstrous  adulation  to  the  successors  of  Alexan- 
der. The  Roman  emperors,  from  the  time  of  Julius  Ca'sar, 
were  deified ;  and  the  thrones  of  modern  European  absolutism 
rest  on  a  basis  a  little  more  refined,  but  not  more  rational.  The 
divine  right  of  Henry  VHI.  or  of  Charles  V.  was  no  better,  in 
the  eye  of  an  intelligent  Christian,  than  that  of  their  contem- 
porary, Solyman  the  magnificent, — the  Turkish  Sultan. 

Superstitions  like  these,  resting,  like  all  other  superstitions, 


8 

on  ignorance,  vanish  with  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  hke  the 
morning  mists  on  yonder  river  before  the  rising  sun  ;  and  gov- 
ernments are  brought  down  to  their  only  safe  and  just  basis,  the 
welfare  and  will  of  the  governed.  The  entire  cause  of  modern 
political  reform  has  started  in  the  establishment  of  this  principle, 
and  no  example  is  more  conspicuous  than  that  which,  for  the 
magnitude  of  the  revolution  and  the  immensity  of  its  conse- 
quences is  called  The  Reformation;  and  which,  on  account  of 
the  temporal  usurpations  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  the  intrusion  of 
its  power  into  the  affairs  of  foreign  countries,  and  the  right  claim- 
ed by  the  Pope  to  command  the  obedience  of  subject  and  sove- 
reign,— was  not  less  a  political  than  a  religious  revolution. 
Throughout  this  great  work,  the  course  and  conduct  of  Luther 
present  a  most  illustrious  example  of  the  efficacy  of  a  difffision  of 
knowledge, — of  an  appeal  to  the  popular  mind, — in  breaking 
the  yoke  of  the  oppressor  and  establishing  a  rational  freedom. 
When  he  commenced  the  great  enterprise,  he  stood  alone. 
The  governments  acknowledged  the  supremacy  of  the  Roman 
pontiff.  The  teachers  of  the  universities  and  schools  were,  for 
the  most  part,  regular  priests,  bound  not  only  by  the  common 
tie  of  spiritual  allegiance,  but  by  the  rules  of  the  monastic  or- 
ders to  which  they  belonged.  The  books  of  authority  were 
exclusively  those  of  the  schoolmen,  implicitly  devoted  to  the 
church,  filled  with  fantastical  abstractions,  with  a  meagre  and 
unprofitable  logic,  and  written  in  a  dead  language.  In  this 
state  of  things,  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  Martin  Luther,  conducted, 
no  doubt,  by  a  higher  Providence,  but  in  a  discourse  of  reason, 
finding  what  a  province  he  had  undertaken  against  the  bishop 
of  Rome  and  the  degenerate  traditions  of  the  church,  and  find- 
ing his  own  solitude,  being  no  ways  aided  by  the  opinions  of 
his  own  time,  was  enforced  to  awake  all  antiquity,  and  to  call 
former  times  to  his  succor,  to  make  a  party  against  the  present 
time.  So  that  the  ancient  authors,  both  in  divinity  and  human- 
ity, which  had  long  time  slept  in  libraries,  began  generally  to 
be  read  and  revolved.  This  by  consequence  did  draw  on  a 
necessity  of  a  more  exquisite  travel  in  the  languages  original, 
wherein  those  authors  did  write,  for  a  better  understanding  of 
those  authors,  and  the  better  advantages  of  pressing  and  ap- 
plying their  words.     And  thereof  grew  again  a  delight  in  their 


manner  and  style  of  phrase,  and  an  admiration  of  that  kind  of 
writing;  which  was  much  furthered  and  precipitated  by  the 
enmity  and  opposition,  that  the  propounders  of  those  primitive, 
but  seeming  new,  opinions  had  against  the  schoohiien,  who 
were  generally  of  the  contrary  part,  and  \\  hose  writings  were 
altogether  in  a  different  style  and  form,  taking  liberty  to  coin 
and  frame  new  terms  of  art  to  express  their  own  sense,  and 
to  avoid  circuit  of  speech,  without  regard  to  the  pureness, 
pleasantness,  and  as  I  may  call  it,  lawfulness  of  the  phrase  or 
word.  And  again,  because  the  great  labor  then  was  with  the 
people,  of  whom  the  Pharisees  were  wont  to  say,  execrabilis 
ista  iurba,  qua  non  novit  legem ;  for  the  winning  and  persuad- 
ing them,  there  grew  of  necessity  in  chief  price  and  request 
eloquence  and  variety  of  discourse,  as  the  fittest  and  forciblest 
access  into  the  capacity  of  the  vulgar  sort."* 

With  the  greatest  deference  to  the  authority  of  Lord  Bacon, 
I  would  say,  that  he  seems  to  me  to  have  mistaken  the  relative 
hnportance  of  the  great  instruments  of  the  reformation.  In 
the  solemn  loneliness,  in  which  Luther  found  himself,  he  called 
around  him  not  so  much  the  masters  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
wisdom,  through  the  study  of  the  ancient  languages,  as  he  did 
the  mass  of  his  own  countrymen,  by  his  translation  of  the 
Bible.  It  would  have  been  a  matter  of  tardy  impression  and 
remote  efficacy,  had  he  done  no  more  than  awake  from  the 
dusty  alcoves  of  the  libraries  the  venerable  shades  of  the  classic 
teachers.  He  roused  up  a  population  of  living  sentient  men, 
his  countrymen,  his  brethren.  He  might  have  written  and 
preached  in  Latin  to  his  dying  day,  and  the  elegant  Italian 
scholars,  champions  of  the  church,  would  have  answered  him 
in  Latin  better  than  his  own  ; — and  with  the  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple, the  whole  affair  would  have  been  a  contest  between  angry 
and  loquacious  priests.  "Awake  all  antiquity  from  the  sleep 
of  the  libraries?"  He  awoke  all  Germany,  and  half  Europe 
from  the  scholastic  sleep  of  an  ignorance  worse  than  death. 
He  took  into  his  hands  not  the  oaten  pipe  of  the  classic  muse ; 
he  moved  to  his  great  work,  not 


to  the  Dorian  mood 


Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders  ; — 
*  Lord  Bacon's  Works,  Vol.  I.  p.  14,  quarto  ed. 

2 


10 

He  grasped  the  iron  trumpet  of  his  mother  tongue, — (the  good 
old  Saxon  from  which  our  own  is  descended,  the  language  of 
noble  thought  and  high  resolve,)  and  blew  a  blast  that  shook 
the  nations,  from  Rome  to  the  Orkneys.  Sovereign,  citizen, 
and  peasant,  started  at  the  sound  ;  and  in  a  few  short  years, 
the  poor  monk,  who  had  begged  his  bread,  for  a  pious  canticle, 
in  the  streets  of  Eisenach,* — no  longer  friendless,  no  longer 
solitary, — was  sustained  by  victorious  armies,  countenanced  by 
princes,  and  what  is  a  thousand  times  more  precious  than  the 
brightest  crown  in  Christendom,  revered  as  a  sage,  a  benefac- 
tor, and  a  spiritual  parent,  at  the  firesides  of  millions  of  his 
humble  and  grateful  countrymen. 

Nor  do  we  less  plainly  see  in  this,  as  in  numerous  other 
examples  in  the  modern  history  of  liberty,  the  more  general 
operation  of  the  influences,  by  which  the  diffusion  of  know- 
ledge promotes  rational  freedom.  Simply  to  overturn  the 
theoretical  sophisms  upon  which  any  particular  form  of  des- 
potism may  rest,  is  but  to  achieve  a  temporary  work.  While 
the  mass  of  the  people  remain  ignorant, — to  undermine  the 
system  of  oppression,  political  or  ecclesiastical,  under  which 
at  any  lime  they  may  labor,  is  but  to  stagger  darkling  from  one 
tyranny  to  another.  It  is  for  this  reason, — a  truth  too  sadly 
exemplified  in  the  history  of  the  world  for  the  last  fifty  years, — 
that  countries,  in  which  the  majority  of  the  people  have 
grown  up  without  knowledge,  stung  to  madness  by  intolerable 
oppression,  may  make  a  series  of  plunges,  through  scenes  of 
successive  revolution  and  anarchy,  and  come  out  at  last 
drenched  in  blood,  and  loaded  with  chains. 

We  must  therefore  trace  the  cause  of  political  slavery  be- 
yond the  force  which  is  the  immediate  instrument ; — beyond 
the  superstition  which  is  its  puissant  ally  ; — beyond  the  habit 
and  usage,  the  second  nature  of  governments  as  of  men, — and 
we  shall  find  it  in  that  fatal  inequality,  which  results  from 
hereditary  ignorance.  This  is  the  ultimate,  the  broad,  the 
solid  foundation  of  despotism.  A  few  are  wise,  skilful,  learn- 
ed, wealthy  ;  millions  are  uninformed  and  consequently  un- 
conscious of  their  rights.  For  a  few  are  concentrated  the 
delights,  the  honors,  and  the  excitements  of  life  ; — for  all  the 

"  Lutlier's  Werke,  Tli.  x.  52-1. 


11 

rest  remains  a  heritage  of  unenlightened  subjection  and  un- 
rewarded toil. 

Such  is  the  division  of  the  human  race  in  all  the  oriental 
despotisms,  at  the  present  day.  Such  it  was  in  all  Europe,  in 
the  middle  ages.  Such  in  some  parts  of  Europe  it  still  is: 
such  it  naturally  must  be  every  where,  under  institutions  which 
keep  the  mass  of  the  people  ignorant.  A  nation  is  numerically 
reckoned  at  its  millions  of  souls.  But  they  are  not  souls  ;  the 
greater  part  are  but  bodies.  God  has  given  them  souls,  but 
man  has  done  all  but  annihilate  the  immortal  principle: — its 
hfe-spring,  its  vigor,  its  conscious  power  are  broken  down, 
and  the  people  he  buried  in  subjection,  till  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  understanding,  a  new  creation  takes  place.  The 
physical  creation  began  with  light ;  the  intellectual  and  moral 
creation  begins  with  light  also.  Chosen  servants  of  Provi- 
dence are  raised  up  to  speak  the  word ;  power  is  given  to 
political  or  religious  reformers  to  pronounce  the  decree  ;  it 
spreads  like  the  elemental  beam,  by  the  thousand  channels 
of  intelligence,  from  mind  to  mind,  and  a  new  race  is  created. 
Let  there  be  light ;  let  those  rational  intellects  begin  to  think. 
Let  them  but  look  in  upon  themselves  and  see  that  they  are 
men,  and  look  upon  their  oppressors  and  see  if  they  are  more. 
Let  them  look  round  upon  Nature  ; — 'it  is  my  father's  domain, 
shall  not  my  patient  labor  be  rewarded  with  its  share  ?'  Let 
them  look  up  to  the  heavens ; — '  has  He  that  upholds  their  glori- 
ous orbs,  and  who  has  given  me  the  capacity  to  trace  and  com- 
prehend their  motions,  designed  me  to  grovel,  without  redemp- 
tion, in  the  dust  beneath  my  feet,  and  exhaust  my  life  for  a 
fellow-man  no  better  than  myself?' 

These  are  the  truths,  which  in  all  ages  shoot  through  the 
understandings  to  the  hearts  of  men  :  they  are  \\  hat  our  revo- 
lutionary fathers  called  "first  principles;"  and  they  prepared 
the  way  for  the  revolution.  All  that  was  good  in  the  French 
revolution  was  built  upon  them.  They  are  the  corner-stone 
of  modern  English  liberty  ;  they  emancipated  the  Netherlands 
and  the  Swiss  Cantons ;  and  they  gave  to  republican  Greece 
and  Rome  that  all  but  miraculous  influence  in  human  affairs, — 
which  succeeding  ages  of  civil  discord,  of  abuse,  and  degen- 
eracy have  not  yet  been  able  to  countervail.     They  redress  the 


12 

inequalities  of  society.  When  penetrated  with  these  great  con- 
ceptions, the  people  assert  their  native  worth  and  inherent  rights, 
it  is  wonderful  to  behold  how  the  petty  badges  of  social  ine- 
quality, the  emblems  of  rank  and  of  wealth,  are  contemned. 
Cincinnatus,  who  saved  Rome  from  the  ^qui  and  Volsci,  was 
found  ploughing  his  own  land,  a  farm  of  four  acres,  when 
created  dictator ;  and  Epaminondas,  who  rescued  his  country 
from  the  domination  of  Sparta,  and  was  implored  by  the  emis- 
saries of  the  king  of  Persia  to  do  their  master  the  honor  to 
take  his  bribes,  possessed  no  other  property,  when  he  fell 
gloriously  at  Mantinsea,  than  the  humble  utensils  for  cooking 
his  daily  food.  A  single  bold  word,  heroic  exploit,  or  gener- 
ous sacrifice,  at  the  fortunate  crisis,  kindles  the  latent  faculties 
of  a  whole  population,  turns  them  from  beasts  of  burden  into 
men ;  excites  to  intense  action  and  sympathetic  counsel  rail- 
lions  of  awakened  minds,  and  leads  them  forth  to  the  contest. 
When  such  a  development  of  mental  energy  has  fairly  taken 
place,  the  battle  is  fought  and  won.  It  may  be  long  and 
deadly,  it  may  be  brief  and  bloodless.  Freedom  may  come 
quickly  in  robes  of  peace,  or  after  ages  of  conflict  and  war ; 
but  come  it  will,  and  abide  it  will,  so  long  as  the  principles  by 
which  it  was  acquired  are  held  sacred. 

Nor  let  us  forget,  that  the  dangers  to  which  liberty  is 
exposed  are  not  all,  on  the  side  of  arbitrary  power.  That 
popular  intelligence,  by  which  the  acquisition  of  rational  free- 
dom is  to  be  made,  is  still  more  necessary  to  protect  it  against 
anarchy.  Here  is  the  great  test  of  a  people,  who  deserve 
their  freedom.  Under  a  parental  despotism,  the  order  of  the 
state  is  preserved,  and  life  and  property  are  protected,  by  the 
strong  arm  of  the  government.  A  measure  of  liberty, — that  is, 
safety  from  irregular  violence, — is  secured  by  the  constant 
presence  of  that  military  power,  which  is  the  great  engine  of 
subjection.  But  beneath  a  free  government,  there  is  nothing 
but  the  intelligence  of  the  people  to  keep  the  people's  peace. 
Order  must  be  preserved,  not  by  a  military  police  or  regiments 
of  horse-guards;  but  by  the  spontaneous  concert  of  a  well- 
informed  population,  resolved  that  the  rights,  which  have  been 
rescued  from  despotism,  shall  not  be  subverted  by  anarchy. 
As  the  disorder  of  a  delicate  system,  and  the  degeneracy  of 


13 

a  noble  nature  are  spectacles  more  grievous  than  the  con-up- 
tion  of  meaner  things,  so  if  we  permit  the  principle  of  our 
government  to  be  subverted,  havoc,  terror,  and  destruction, 
beyond  the  measure  of  ordinary  political  catastrophes  will  be 
our  lot.  This  is  a  subject  of  intense  interest  to  the  people 
of  the  United  States  at  the  present  time.  To  no  people  since 
the  world  began,  was  such  an  amount  of  blessings  and  privi- 
leges ever  given  in  trust.  No  people  was  ever  so  eminently 
made  the  guardians  of  their  own  rights  ;  and  if  this  great  ex- 
periment of  rational  liberty  should  here  be  permitted  to  fail,  I 
know  not  where  or  when  among  the  sons  of  Adam,  it  will 
ever  be  resumed. 

II.  But  it  is  more  than  time  to  proceed  to  the  second 
point,  which  I  proposed  briefly  to  illustrate, — the  favorable  in- 
fluence of  the  extension  of  the  means  of  education  and  the 
diffltsion  of  knowledge,  on  the  progress  of  sound  science.  It 
is  a  pretty  common  suggestion,  that  while  the  more  abundant 
means  of  popular  education,  existing  at  the  present  day,  may 
have  occasioned  the  diffusion  of  a  considerable  amount  of  su- 
perficial knowledge,  the  effect  has  been  unfavorable  to  the 
growth  of  profound  science.  I  am  inclined  to  think  this  view 
of  the  subject  entirely  erroneous  : — an  inference  by  no  means 
warranted  by  the  premises  from  which  it  is  drawn.  It  is  no 
doubt  true,  that,  in  consequence  of  the  increased  facilities  for 
education,  the  number  of  students  of  all  descriptions,  both 
readers  and  writers,  is  almost  indefinitely  multiplied,  and 
with  this  increase  in  the  entire  number  of  persons  who  have 
enjoyed,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  advantages  for  improving 
their  minds,  the  number  of  half-taught  and  superficial  pretend- 
ers has  become  proporiionably  greater.  Education,  which,  at 
some  periods  of  the  world,  has  been  a  very  rare  accomplish- 
ment of  a  highly  gifted  and  fortunate  few ;  at  other  times,  an 
attainment  attended  with  considerable  difficulty,  and  almost 
confined  to  professed  scholars  ;  has-  become,  in  this  country  at 
least,  one  of  the  public  birthrights  of  freemen,  and  like  every 
other  birthright,  is  subject  to  be  abused.  In  this  state  of  things, 
those,  who  habitually  look  at  the  dark  side  of  affairs, — often 
witnessing  the  arrogant  displays  of  superficial  learning, — books 


14 

of  great  pretension  and  little  value,  multiplied  and  circulated, 
by  all  the  arts  and  machinery  of  an  enterprising  and  prosper- 
ous age,  and  in  all  things  much  forwardness  and  show,  often 
unaccompanied  by  worth  and  substance,  are  apt  to  infer  a  de- 
cline of  sound  learning,  and  look  back,  with  a  sigh,  to  what 
they  imagine  to  have  been  the  more  solid  erudition  of  former 
days.  But  I  deem  this  opinion  without  real  foundation,  in 
truth. 

It  is  an  age,  I  grant,  of  cheap  fame.  A  sort  of  literary  ma- 
chinery exists,  of  which  the  patent  paper-mill,  the  power-press, 
the  newspapers,  magazines  and  reviews  ;  the  reading  clubs 
and  circulating  libraries  are  some  of  the  principal  springs  and 
levers,  by  means  of  which  almost  any  thing,  in  the  shape  of  a 
book,  is  thrown  into  a  sort  of  notoriety,  miscalled  reputation. 
The  weakest  distillation  of  soft  sentiment  from  the  poet's  cor- 
ner flows  round  a  larger  circle  of  admirers,  than  Paradise  Lost, 
when  first  ushered  to  the  world  ;  and  the  most  narcotic  inflic- 
tion of  the  quarterly  critical  press,  (absit  invidia  verbo),  no 
doubt  far  excels  the  Novum  Organum  in  the  number  of  its  con- 
temporary readers.  But  nothing  is  to  be  inferred  fi'om  this 
state  of  things,  in  disparagement  of  the  learning  and  scholarship 
of  the  age.  All  that  it  proves  is,  that  with  a  vast  diffusion  of 
useful  knowledge, — with  an  astonishing  multiplication  of  the 
means  of  education,  and,  as  I  firmly  believe,  with  a  prodigious 
growth  of  true  science,  there  has  sprung  up,  by  natural  associ- 
ation, a  host  of  triflers  and  pretenders,  like  a  growth  of  rank 
weeds,  with  a  rich  crop,  on  a  fertile  soil. 

But  there  were  surely  always  pretenders  in  science  and 
literature,  in  every  age  of  the  world  ;  nor  must  we  suppose, 
because  their  works  and  their  names  have  perished,  that  they 
existed  in  a  smaller  proportion  formerly  than  now.  Solomon 
intimates  a  complaint  of  the  number  of  books  in  his  day,  which 
he  probably  would  not  have  done,  if  they  had  been  all  good 
books.  The  sophists  in  Greece  were  sworn  pretenders  and 
dealers  in  words, — the  most  completely  organized  body  of 
learned  quacks  that  ever  existed.  Bavius  and  Maevius  were 
certainly  not  the  only  worthless  poets  in  Rome  ;  and  from  the 
age  of  the  grammarians  and  critics  of  the  Alexandrian  school, 
through  that  of  the  monkish  chroniclers  and  the  schoolmen  of 


15 

the  middle  ages,  and  the  mystics  of  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries,  the  kingdom  of  learned  dulness  and  empty- 
profession  has  been  kept  up,  under  an  unbroken  succession  of 
leaden  or  brazen  potentates.  If  the  subjects  at  the  present 
day  seem  more  numerous  than  formerly,  it  is  only  in  propor- 
tion to  the  increase  in  the  entire  numbers  of  the  reading  and 
writing  world  ;  and  because  the  sagacious  hand  of  time  brushes 
away  the  false  pretensions  of  former  days,  leaving  real  talent 
and  sound  learning  the  more  conspicuous  for  standing  alone. 

But,  as  in  elder  days,  notwithstanding  this  unbroken  sway  of 
false  lore  and  vain  philosophy,  the  hne  of  the  truly  wise  and 
soundly  learned  was  also  preserved  entire ;  as  the  lights  of 
the  world  have  in  all  former  ages  successively  risen,  illumin- 
ating the  deep  darkness,  and  outshining  the  delusive  meteors  ; 
so,  at  the  present  day,  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  there  is 
more  patient  learning,  true  philosophy,  fruitful  science,  and 
various  knowledge,  than  at  any  former  time.  By  the  side  of 
the  hosts  of  superficial,  arrogant,  and  often  unprincipled  pretend- 
ers, in  every  department,  there  is  a  multitude  innumerable  of 
the  devoted  lovers  of  truth,  whom  no  labor  can  exhaust,  no 
obstacles  can  discourage,  no  height  of  attainment  dazzle  ;  and 
who,  in  every  branch  of  knowledge,  sacred  and  profane,  moral, 
physical,  exact,  and  critical,  have  carried  and  are  carrying  the 
glorious  banner  of  true  science,  into  regions  of  investigation 
wholly  unexplored  in  elder  times.  Let  me  not  be  mistaken. 
I  mean  not  arrogantly  to  detract  from  the  fame  of  the  few 
great  masters  of  the  mind, — the  gifted  few,  who,  from  age  to 
age,  after  long  centuries  have  intervened,  have  appeared  ;  and 
have  risen,  as  all  are  ready  to  allow,  above  all  rivalry.  After- 
time  alone  can  pronounce  whether  this  age  has  produced  minds 
worthy  to  be  classed  in  their  select  circle.  But  this  aside, — I 
cannot  comprehend  the  philosophy  by  which  we  assume  as 
probable,  nor  do  I  see  the  state  of  facts,  by  which  we  must 
admit  as  actually  existing,  an  intellectual  degeneracy  at  the 
present  day,  either  in  Europe  or  in  this  country.  I  see  not 
why  the  multiplication  of  popvdar  guides  to  partial  attainments, 
— why  the  facilities,  that  abound  for  the  acquisition  of  superfi- 
cial scholarship,  should,  in  the  natural  operation  of  things, 
either  diminish  the  number  of  powerful  and  original  minds,  or 


16 

satisfy  their  ardent  thirst  for  acquisition,  by  a  hmited  progress. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  many  of  these  improvements  in  the  me- 
thods of  learning, — many  of  the  aids  to  the  acquisition  of  knowl- 
edge, which  are  the  product  of  the  present  time,  are,  in  their  very 
nature,  calculated  to  help  the  early  studies  even  of  minds  of  the 
highest  order.  It  is  a  familiar  anecdote  of  James  Otis,  that, 
when  he  first  obtained  a  copy  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries, 
he  observed  with  emphasis,  that  if  he  had  possessed  that  book 
when  commencing  his  studies  of  the  law,  it  would  have  saved 
him  seven  years'  labor.  Would  those  seven  years  have  borne 
no  fruit  to  a  mind  like  that  of  James  Otis  ?  Though  the  use 
of  elementary  treatises  of  this  kind  may  have  the  effect  to  make 
many  superficial  jurists,  who  would  otherwise  have  been  no 
jurists  at  all,  I  deem  it  mere  popular  prejudice  to  suppose,  that 
the  march  of  original  genius  to  the  heights  of  learning  has  been 
impeded,  by  the  possession  of  these  modern  facilities  to  aid 
its  progress.  To  maintain  this  seems  to  be  little  else  than 
to  condemn  as  worthless  the  wisdom  of  the  ages,  which  have 
gone  before  us.  It  is  surely  absurd  to  suppose  that  we  can  do 
no  more  with  the  assistance  of  our  predecessors,  than  without 
it ;  that  the  teachings  of  one  generation,  instead  of  enlighten- 
ing, confound  and  stupify  that  which  succeeds  ;  and  that 
"  when  we  stand  on  the  shoulders  of  our  ancestors,  we  cannot 
see  so  far  as  from  the  ground."  On  the  contrary,  it  is  un- 
questionably one  of  the  happiest  laws  of  intellectual  progress, 
that  the  judicious  labors,  the  profound  reasonings,  the  sublime 
discoveries,  the  generous  sentiments  of  great  intellects,  rapidly 
work  their  way  into  the  common  channel  of  public  opinion, 
find  access  to  the  general  mind,  raise  the  universal  standard  of 
attainment,  correct  popular  errors,  promote  arts  of  daily  appli- 
cation, and  come  home  at  last  to  the  fireside,  in  the  shape  of 
increased  intelligence,  skill,  comfort  and  virtue  ;  which,  in 
their  turn,  by  an  instantaneous  reaction,  multiply  the  numbers 
and  facilitate  the  efforts  of  those  who  engage  in  the  farther  in- 
vestigation and  discovery  of  truth.  In  this  way,  a  constant 
circulation,  like  that  of  the  life-blood,  takes  place  in  the  intel- 
lectual world.  Truth  travels  down  from  the  heights  of  philo- 
sophy to  the  humblest  walks  of  life,  and  up  from  the  simplest 
perceptions  of  an  awakened  intellect  to  the  discoveries,  which 


17 

almost  change  the  face  of  the  world.  At  every  stage  of  its  pro- 
gress it  is  genial,  luminous,  creative.  When  first  struck  out  by- 
some  distinguished  and  fortunate  genius,  it  may  address  itself  only 
to  a  few  minds  of  kindred  power.  It  exists  then  only  in  the 
highest  forms  of  science  ;  it  corrects  former  systems,  and  au- 
thorizes new  generalizations.  Discussion,  controversy  begins  ; 
more  truth  is  elicited,  more  errors  exploded,  more  doubts  cleared 
up,  more  phenomena  drawn  into  the  circle,  unexpected  connex- 
ions of  kindred  sciences  are  traced,  and  in  each  step  of  the  pro- 
gress, the  number  rapidly  grows  of  those  who  are  prepared  to 
comprehend  and  carry  on  some  branches  of  the  investigation, — 
till,  in  the  lapse  of  time,  every  order  of  intellect  has  been  kind- 
led, from  that  of  the  sublime  discoverer  to  the  practical  ma- 
chinist ;  and  every  department  of  knowledge  been  enlarged, 
from  the  most  abstruse  and  transcendental  theory  to  the  daily 
arts  of  life. 

I  presume  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  deduce,  from  the  dis- 
covery and  demonstration  of  the  law  of  gravit)^,  attainments  in 
useful  knowledge,  which  come  home  every  day  to  the  business 
and  bosoms  of  men;  enlightening  the  mass  of  the  community, 
who  have  received  a  common  education,  on  points,  concerning 
which  the  greatest  philosophers  of  former  times  were  at  fault. 
Bold  as  the  remark  sounds,  there  is  not  a  young  man  who 
will  tomorrow  receive  his  degree  on  this  stage,  who  could 
not  correct  Lord  Bacon  in  many  a  grave  point  of  natural 
science.  His  lordship  questioned  the  rotation  of  the  earth  on 
its  axis,  after  it  had  been  affirmed  by  Copernicus,  Kepler,  and 
Galileo.  He  states  positively,  that  he  judges  the  work  of 
making  gold  possible,*  and  even  goes  so  far,  after  condemning 
the  procedure  of  the  alchemists,  as  to  propound  his  own. 
Finally,  he  says,  it  "  is  not  impossible,  and  I  have  heard  it 
verified,  that  upon  cutting  down  of  an  old  timber  tree,  the 
stub  hath  put  out  sometimes  a  tree  of  another  kind,  as  that 
beech  hath  put  forth  birch :"  "  which,  if  it  be  true,"  the  im- 
mortal chancellor  discreetly  adds,  "  the  cause  may  be,  for  that 

*  "  The  world  hath  been  much  abused  by  the  opinion  of  making  gold. 
The  work  itself  1  judge  to  be  possible,  but  the  means  hitherto  propounded 
to  effect  it  are  in  the  practice  full  of  error  and  imposture,  and  in  the  theory 
full  of  unsound  imaginations."     Lord  Bacon's  Works,  Vol.  1.  p.  204. 

3 


18 

the  old  stub  is  too  scanty  of  juice  to  put  forth  the  former  tree, 
and  therefore  putteth  forth  a  tree  of  a  smaller  kind,  that  need- 
eth  less  nourishment."*  Surely  no  man  can  doubt  that  the 
cause  of  true  science  has  been  promoted  by  such  a  diffusion 
of  knowledge,  as  has  eradicated  even  from  the  common  mind 
such  enormous  errors  as  these,  from  which,  notwithstanding 
their  enormity,  the  greatest  minds  of  other  times  could  not 
emancipate  themselves.  It  is  extremely  difficult  even  for  the 
boldest  intellects  to  work  themselves  free  of  all  those  popular 
errors,  which  form  a  part  as  it  were  of  the  intellectual  atmo- 
sphere, in  which  they  have  passed  their  lives.  Copernicus 
was  one  of  the  boldest  theorists  that  ever  lived,  but  was  so 
enslaved  by  the  existing  popular  errors,  as  even  while  propos- 
inf  his  own  simple  and  magnificently  beautiful  theory  of  the 
heavens,  to  retain  some  of  the  most  absurd  and  complicated 
contrivances  of  the  Ptolemaic  scheme.f  Kepler  was  one  of 
the  most  sagacious  and  original  of  philosophers,  and  the  laws 
which  bear  his  name  have  been  declared  on  respectable  au- 
thority "  the  foundations  of  the  whole  theory  of  Newton ;" 
but  he  believed  that  the  planets  were  monstrous  animals,  swim- 
ming in  the  ethereal  fluid,  and  speaks  of  storms  and  tempests 
as  the  pulmonary  heavings  of  the  great  Leviathan,  the  earth, 
breathing  out  hurricanes  from  its  secret  spiracles,  in  the  valleys 
and  among  the  hills.  It  may  raise  our  admiration  of  this 
extraordinary  man,  that  with  notions  so  confused  and  irra- 
tional, he  should,  by  a  life  of  indefatigable  research,  discover 
some  of  the  sublimest  laws  of  nature ;  but  no  one  can  so 
superstitiously  reverence  the  past, — no  one  so  blindly  under- 
value the  utility  of  the  diffusion  of  knowledge, — as  not  to  feel 
that  these  absurdities  must  have  hung  like  a  millstone  about 
the  necks  of  the  strongest  minds  of  former  ages,  and  dragged 
them  in  the  midst  of  their  boldest  flights  to  the  dust.  When 
I  behold  minds  like  these,  fitted  to  range,  with  the  boldest 
step,  in  the  paths  of  investigation,  bound  down  by  subjection 
to  gross  prevailing  errors;  but  at  length,  by  a  happy  effort  of 
native  sense  or  successful  study,  grasping  at  the   discovery  of 

*  Lord  Bacon's  Works,  Vol.  I.  p.  241. 

1   Dr.  Small's  Account  of  the  Astronomical  Discoveriee  of  Kepler,  chap. 
III.  and  VIII. 


19 

some  noble  truth,  it  brings  to  my  mind  Milton's  somewhat  fan- 
tastical description  of  the  creation  of  the  animals,  in  which 
the  great  beasts  of  the  forest,  not  wholly  fomied,  are  striving 
to  be  released  from  their  native  earth, 

now  half  appeared 
The  tawny  lion,  struggling  to  get  free 
His  hinder  parts,  then  springs,  as  burst  from  bonds, 
And  rampant  shakes  his  brinded  mane. 

In  short,  when  we  consider  the  laws  of  the  human  mind,  and 
the  path,  by  which  the  understanding  marches  to  the  discovery 
of  truth,  we  must  see  that  it  is  the  necessary  consequence  of 
the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge,  that  it  should  promote  the 
progress  of  science.  Since  the  time  of  Lord  Bacon,  it  has 
been  more  and  more  generally  admitted,  that  the  only  path  to 
true  knowledge  is  the  study  and  observation  of  nature,  either 
in  the  phenomena  of  the  external  creation,  or  in  the  powers 
and  operations  of  the  human  mind.  This  does  not  exclude 
the  judicious  use  of  books,  which  record  the  observations  and 
the  discoveries  of  others,  and  are  of  inestimable  value  in  guid- 
ing the  mind  in  its  own  independent  researches.  They  are,  in 
fact,  not  its  necessary,  but  its  most  usual  instruments  ;  and  as 
the  book  of  nature  is  never  so  well  perused,  as  with  the  assist- 
ance of  the  learned  and  prudent,  who  have  studied  it  before  us, 
so  the  true  and  profitable  use  of  books  is  to  furnish  materials, 
on  which  other  minds  can  act,  and  to  facilitate  their  observa- 
tion of  nature. 

I  know  not  where  I  could  find  a  better  illustration  of  their 
value,  and  of  their  peculiar  aptitude  to  further  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  than  in  the  admirable  report  on  the  geology  of 
Massachusetts,  which  has  recently  emanated  from  this  place.* 
Under  the  enlightened  patronage  of  the  commonwealth,  a 
member  of  the  faculty  of  this  institution  has  set  before  the 
citizens  of  the  state,  such  a  survey  of  its  territory, — such  an 
inventory  of  its  natural  wealth, — such  a  catalogue  of  its  pro- 
ductions in  the  animal,  the  vegetable,  and  still  more  in  the 
mineral  world,  as  cannot  be  contemplated  without  gratifica- 
tion and  pride.    By  one  noble  effort  of  learned  industry  and 

*  Report  on  the  geology,  mineralogy,  botany,  and  zoology  of  Massachu- 
setts, by  Prof.  Hitchcock. 


20 

vigorous  intellectual  labor,  the  whole  science  of  geology,  one 
of  the  great  mental  creations  of  modern  times,  has  been 
brought  home  and  applied  to  the  illustration  of  our  native 
state.  There  is  not  a  citizen,  who  has  learned  to  read, 
in  the  humblest  village  of  Massachusetts,  from  the  hills  of 
Berkshire  to  the  sands  of  Nantucket,  who  has  not  now  placed 
within  his  reach,  the  means  of  beholding  with  a  well-informed 
eye,  either  in  his  immediate  neighborhood,  or  in  any  part  of 
the  State  to  which  he  may  turn  his  attention,  the  hills  and  the 
vales,  the  rocks  and  the  rivers,  the  soil  and  the  quarries  that 
lie  beneath  it.  Who  can  doubt  that  out  of  the  hundreds, — 
the  thousands, — of  liberal  minds,  in  every  part  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, which  must  thus  be  awakened  to  the  intelligent 
observation  of  nature,  thus  helped  over  the  elementary  diffi- 
culties of  the  science,  not  a  few  will  be  effectually  put  upon 
the  track  of  independent  inquiries  and  original  attainments  in 
science  ! 

We  are  confirmed  in  the  conclusion  that  the  popular  diffu- 
sion of  knowledge  is  favorable  to  the  growth  of  science,  by  the 
reflection,  that  vast  as  the  domain  of  learning  is,  and  extraor- 
dinary as  is  the  progress,  which  has  been  made  in  almost 
every  branch,  it  may  be  assumed  as  certain,  I  will  not  say  that 
we  are  in  its  infancy,  but,  as  truth  is  as  various  as  nature,  and 
as  boundless  as  creation,  that  the  discoveries  already  made, 
wonderful  as  they  are,  bear  but  a  small  proportion  to  those 
that  will  hereafter  be  effected.  In  the  yet  unexplored  won- 
ders and  yet  unascertained  laws  of  the  heavens ;  in  the  affini- 
ties of  the  natural  properties  of  bodies, — in  magnetism,  gal- 
vanism, and  electricity, — in  light  and  heat, — in  the  combination 
and  application  of  the  mechanical  powers, — the  use  of  steam, 
the  analysis  of  mineral  products,  of  liquid  and  aeriform  fluids, — 
in  the  application  of  the  arts  and  sciences  to  improvements  in 
husbandry,  to  manufactures,  to  navigation,  to  letters,  and  to 
education ; — in  the  great  department  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
mind,  and  the  realm  of  morals ; — and  in  short,  to  every  thing 
that  belongs  to  the  improvement  of  man,  there  is  yet  a  field  of 
investigation  broad  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  eager  thirst  for 
knowledge,  and  diversified  enough  to  suit  every  variety  of 
taste,  order  of  intellect,  or  degree  of  qualification.     For  the 


21 

peaceful  victories  of  the  mind,  that  unknown  and  unconquered 
world,  for  which  Alexander  wept,  is  forever  near  at  hand ; 
hidden  indeed  as  yet  behind  the  veil,  with  which  nature  shrouds 
her  undiscovered  mysteries,  but  stretching  all  along  the  con- 
fines of  the  domain  of  knowledge,  sometimes  nearest  when 
least  suspected. — The  foot  has  not  yet  pressed,  nor  the  eye 
beheld  it ;  but  the  mind,  in  its  deepest  musings,  in  its  widest 
excursions,  will  sometimes  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  hidden 
realm — a  gleam  of  light  from  the  Hesperian  island — a  fresh 
and  fragrant  breeze  from  off  the  undiscovered  land, 

Sabaean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore, 

which  happier  voyagers  in  aftertimes,  shall  approach,  explore, 
and  inhabit.  Who  has  not  felt  when,  with  his  very  soul  con- 
centred in  his  eyes,  while  the  world  around  him  is  wrapped  in 
sleep,  he  gazes  into  the  holy  depths  of  the  midnight  heav- 
ens, or  wanders  in  contemplation  among  the  worlds  and  sys- 
tems, that  sweep  through  the  immensity  of  space, — who  has 
not  felt  as  if  their  mystery  must  yet  more  fully  yield  to  the  ar- 
dent, unwearied,  imploring  research  of  patient  science  ?  Who 
does  not,  in  those  choice  and  blessed  moments,  in  which  the 
world  and  its  interests  are  forgotten,  and  the  spirit  retires  into 
the  inmost  sanctuary  of  its  own  meditations,  and  there,  uncon- 
scious of  every  thing  but  itself  and  the  infinite  Perfection,  of 
which  it  is  the  earthly  type,  and  kindling  the  flame  of  thought 
on  the  altar  of  prayer,  who  does  not  feel  in  moments  like  these, 
as  if  it  must  at  last  be  given  to  man,  to  fathom  the  great  secret 
of  his  own  being ;  to  solve  the  mighty  problem 

Of  providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate  ? 

When  I  think  in  what  slight  elements  the  great  discoveries, 
that  have  changed  the  condition  of  the  world,  have  oftentimes 
originated ;  on  the  entire  revolution  in  political  and  social  af- 
fairs, which  has  resulted  from  the  use  of  the  magnetic  needle  ; 
on  the  world  of  wonders,  teeming  with  the  most  important 
scientific  discoveries,  which  has  been  opened  by  the  telescope ; 
on  the  all-controlling  influence  of  so  simple  an  invention  as 
that  of  movable  metallic  types, — on  the  effects  of  the  invention 
of  gunpowder,  no  doubt  the  casual  result  of  some  idle  experi- 
ment in  alchemy ;  on  the  consequences  that  have  resulted  and 
are  likely  to  result  from  the  application  of  the  vapor  of  boiling 


22 

water  to  the  manufacturing  arts,  to  navigation,  and  transporta- 
tion by  land  ;  on  the  results  of  a  single  sublime  conception  in 
the  mind  of  Newton,  on  which  he  erected,  as  on  a  foundation, 
the  glorious  temple  of  the  system  of  the  heavens  ; — in  fine, 
when  I  consider  how,  from  the  great  master-principle  of  the 
philosophy  of  Bacon, — the  induction  of  Truth  from  the  obser- 
vation of  Fact, — has  flowed,  as  from  a  living  fountain,  the 
fresh  and  still  swelling  stream  of  modern  science,  I  am  almost 
oppressed  with  the  idea  of  the  probable  connexion  of  the 
truths  already  known,  with  great  principles  which  remain 
undiscovered  ; — of  the  proximity,  in  which  we  may  uncon- 
sciously stand,  to  the  most  astonishing  though  yet  unrevealed 
mysteries  of  the  material  and  intellectual  world. 

If  after  thus  considering  the  seemingly  obvious  sources  from 
which  the  most  important  discoveries  and  improvements  have 
sprung,  we  inquire  into  the  extent  of  the  field,  in  which  farther 
discoveries  are  to  be  made,  which  is  no  other  and  no  less  than 
the  entire  natural  and  spiritual  creation  of  God, — a  grand  and 
lovely  system,  even  as  we  imperfectly  apprehend  it ;  but  no 
doubt  most  grand,  lovely  and  harmonious,  beyond  all  that  we 
now  conceive  or  imagine ; — when  we  reflect  that  the  most  in- 
sulated, seemingly  disconnected,  and  even  contradictory  parts 
of  the  system  are,  no  doubt,  bound  together  as  portions  of  one 
stupendous  whole  ; — and  that  those,  which  are  at  present  the 
least  explicable,  and  which  most  completely  defy  the  penetra- 
tion hitherto  bestowed  upon  them,  are  as  intelligible  in  reality, 
as  that  which  seems  most  plain  and  clear ;  that  as  every  atom 
in  the  universe  attracts  every  other  atom  and  is  attracted  by  it, 
so  every  truth  stands  in  harmonious  connexion  with  every 
other  truth  ; — we  are  brought  directly  to  the  conclusion,  that 
every  portion  of  knowledge  now  possessed,  every  observed 
fact,  every  demonstrated  principle  is  a  clew,  which  we  hold  by 
one  end  in  the  hand,  and  which  is  capable  of  guiding  the  faith- 
ful inquirer  farther  and  farther  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the 
labyrinth  of  nature.  Ages  on  ages  may  elapse,  before  it  con- 
duct the  patient  intellect  to  the  wonders  of  science,  to  which 
it  will  eventually  lead  him  ;  and  perhaps  with  the  next  step  he 
takes,  he  will  reach  the  goal,  and  principles,  destined  to  affect 
the  condition  of  millions  beam  in  characters  of  light  upon  his 
understanding.    What  was  at  once  more  unexpected  and  more 


23 

obvious,  than  Newton's  discovery  of  the  nature  of  light  ?  Every 
living  being,  since  the  creation  of  the  world,  had  gazed  on  the 
rainbow ;  to  none  had  the  beautiful  mystery  revealed  itself. 
And  even  the  great  philosopher  himself,  while  dissecting  the 
solar  beam,  while  actually  untwisting  the  golden  and  silver 
threads  that  compose  the  ray  of  light, — laid  open  but  half  its 
wonders.  And  who  shall  say  that  to  us,  to  whom,  as  we  think, 
modern  science  has  disclosed  the  residue,  tmths  more  wonderful 
than  those  now  known,  will  not  yet  be  revealed  ? 

It  is  therefore  by  no  means  to  be  infeiTcd,  because  the  human 
mind  has  seemed  to  linger  for  a  long  time  around  certain  re- 
sults,— as  ultimate  principles, — that  they  and  the  principles 
closely  connected  with  them  are  not  likely  to  be  pushed  much 
farther  ;  nor  on  the  other  hand,  does  the  intellect  always  re- 
quire much  time  to  bring  its  noblest  fruits  to  seeming  perfec- 
tion. It  was,  I  suppose,  two  thousand  years  from  the  time 
when  the  peculiar  properties  of  the  magnet  were  first  observ- 
ed, before  it  became,  through  the  means  of  those  qualities,  the 
pilot  which  guided  Columbus  to  the  American  continent.  Be- 
fore the  invention  of  the  compass  could  take  full  effect,  it  was 
necessary  that  some  navigator  should  practically  and  boldly 
grasp  the  idea,  that  the  globe  is  round.  The  two  truths  are 
apparently  without  connexion  ;  but  in  their  application  to 
practice,  they  are  intimately  associated.  Hobbes  says  that 
Dr.  Harvey,  the  illustrious  discoverer  of  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  is  the  only  author  of  a  great  discovery,  who  ever 
lived  to  see  it  universally  adopted.  To  the  honor  of  subse- 
quent science,  this  remark  could  not  now,  with  equal  tmth, 
be  made.  Nor  was  Harvey  himself  without  some  painful  ex- 
perience of  the  obstacles,  arising  from  popular  ignorance,  against 
which  tmth  sometimes  forces  its  way  to  general  acceptance. 
When  he  first  proposed  the  beautiful  doctrine,  his  practice  fell 
off;  people  would  not  continue  to  trust  their  lives  in  the  hands 
of  such  a  dreamer.  When  it  was  firmly  established  and  gen- 
erally received,  one  of  his  opponents  published  a  tract  de 
circulo  sangumis  Salomoneo,  and  proved  from  the  twelfth 
chapter  of  Ecclesiastes,  that  the  circulation  of  the  blood  was 
no  secret  in  the  time  of  Solomon.  The  whole  doctrine  of  the 
Reformation   may  be  found   in  the  writings  of  Wichf;  but 


24 

neither  he  nor  his  age  felt  the  importance  of  his  principles, 
nor  the  consequences  to  which  they  led.  Huss  had  studied 
the  writings  of  Wiclif  in  manuscript,  and  was  in  no  degree 
behind  him,  in  the  boldness  with  which  he  denounced  the 
papal  usurpations.  But  his  voice  was  not  heard  beyond  the 
mountains  of  Bohemia; — and  he  expired  in  agony  at  the  stake, 
and  his  ashes  were  scattered  upon  the  Rhine.  A  hundred 
years  passed  away.  Luther,  like  an  avenging  angel,  burst 
upon  the  world,  and  denounced  the  corruptions  of  the  church, 
and  rallied  the  host  of  the  faithful,  with  a  voice  which  might 
almost  call  up  those  ashes  from  their  watery  grave,  and  form 
and  kindle  them  again  into  a  living  witness  to  the  truth. 

Thus  Providence,  which  has  ends  innumerable  to  answer,  in 
the  conduct  of  the  physical  and  intellectual,  and  as  of  the  moral 
world,  sometimes  permits  the  great  discoverers  fully  to  enjoy 
their  fame ;  sometimes  to  catch  but  a  glimpse  of  the  extent  of 
their  achievements ;  and  sometimes  sends  them  dejected  and 
heart-broken  to  the  grave,  unconscious  of  the  importance  of  their 
own  discoveries,  and  not  merely  undervalued  by  their  contem- 
poraries but  by  themselves.  It  is  plain  that  Copernicus,  like 
his  great  contemporary,  Columbus,  though  fully  conscious  of 
the  boldness  and  the  novelty  of  his  doctrine,  saw  but  a  part  of 
the  changes  it  was  to  effect  in  science.  After  harboring  in  his 
bosom  for  long,  long  years  that  pernicious  heresy, — the  solar 
system, — he  died  on  the  day  of  the  appearance  of  his  book 
from  the  press.  The  closing  scene  of  his  life,  with  a  little 
help  from  the  imagination,  would  furnish  a  noble  subject  for  an 
artist.  For  thirty-five  years  he  has  revolved  and  matured  in 
his  mind,  his  system  of  the  heavens.  A  natural  mildness  of 
disposition  bordering  on  timidity,  a  reluctance  to  encounter 
controversy,  and  a  dread  of  persecution,  have  led  him  to  with- 
hold his  work  from  the  press;  and  to  make  known  his  system 
but  to  a  few  confidential  disciples  and  friends.  At  length  he 
draws  near  his  end  ;  he  is  seventy -three  years  of  age,  and  he 
yields  his  work  on  "  the  Revolutions  of  the  heavenly  orbs  "  to 
his  friends  for  publication.  The  day  at  last  has  come,  on 
which  it  is  to  be  ushered  into  the  world.  It  is  the  twenty- 
fourth  of  May,  1543.  On  that  day, — the  effect  no  doubt  oi 
the  intense  excitement  of  his  mind,  operating  upon  an   ex- 


25 

hausted  frame, — an  effusion  of  blood  brings  him  to  the  gates 
of  the  grave.  His  last  hour  has  come  ;  he  lies  stretched  upon 
the  couch,  from  which  he  will  never  rise,  in  his  apartment  at 
the  Canonry  at  Frauenberg,  East  Prussia.  The  beams  of  the 
setting  sun  glance  through  the  gothic  windows  of  his  cham- 
ber; near  his  bed-side  is  the  armillary  sphere,  which  he  has 
contrived  to  represent  his  theory  of  the  heavens, — his  picture 
painted  by  himself,  the  amusement  of  his  earlier  years,  hangs 
before  him  ;  beneath  it  his  Astrolabe  and  other  imperfect  astro- 
nomical instruments ;  and  around  him  are  gathered  his  sorrow- 
ing disciples.  The  door  of  the  apartment  opens ; — the  eye  of 
the  departing  sage  is  turned  to  see  who  enters :  it  is  a  friend, 
who  brings  him  the  first  printed  copy  of  his  immortal  treatise. 
He  knows  that  in  that  book,  he  contradicts  all  that  had  ever 
been  distinctly  taught  by  former  philosophers : — he  knows  that 
he  has  rebelled  against  the  sway  of  Ptolemy,  which  the  scien- 
tific world  had  acknowledged  for  a  thousand  years ; — he  knows 
that  the  popular  mind  will  be  shocked  by  his  innovations ; — 
he  knows  that  the  attempt  will  be  made  to  press  even  religion 
into  the  service  against  him  ;  but  he  knows  that  his  book  is 
true.  He  is  dying,  but  he  leaves  a  glorious  truth,  as  his  dying 
bequest  to  the  world.  He  bids  the  friend,  who  has  brought 
it,  place  himself  between  the  window  and  his  bed-side,  that 
the  sun's  rays  may  fall  upon  the  precious  volume,  and  he  may 
behold  it  once,  before  his  eye  grows  dim.  He  looks  upon  it, 
takes  it  in  his  hands,  presses  it  to  his  breast,  and  expires. 
But  no,  he  is  not  wholly  gone !  A  smile  lights  up  his  dying 
countenance  ;  a  beam  of  returning  intelligence  kindles  in  his 
eye; — his  lips  move; — and  the  fiiend,  who  leans  over  him, 
can  hear  him  faintly  murmur  the  beautiful  sentiments,  which 
the  Christian  lyrist,  of  a  later  age,  has  so  finely  expressed  in 
verse ; — 

Ye  golden  lamps  of  heaven  !  farewell,  with  all  your  feeble  light, 

Farewell,  thou  ever-changing  moon,  pale  empress  of  the  night ! 

And  thou,  refulgent  orb  of  day,  in  brighter  flames  arrayed. 

My  soul,  which  springs  beyond  thy  sphere,  no  more  demands  thy  aid. 

Ye  stars,  are  but  the  shining  dust  of  my  divine  abode, 

The  pavement  of  those  heavenly  courts,  where  I  shall  reign  witli  God. 

So  died  the  great  Columbus  of  the  heavens.     His  doctrine, 
at  first,  for  want  of  a  general  diffusion  of  knowledge,  forced  its 
4 


26 

way  with  difficulty  against  the  deep-rooted  prejudices  of  the 
age.  Tycho  Brake  attempted  to  restore  the  absurdities  of  the 
Ptolemaic  system  ;  but  Kepler,  with  a  sagacity,  which  more 
than  atones  for  all  his  strange  fancies,  laid  hold  of  the  theory 
of  Copernicus,  with  a  grasp  of  iron,  and  dragged  it  into  repute. 
Galileo  turned  his  telescope  to  the  heavens,  and  observed  the 
phases  of  Venus,  which  Copernicus  boldly  predicted  must  be 
discovered,  as  his  theory  required  their  appearance  ;  and  lastly 
Newton  arose,  like  a  glorious  sun,  scattering  the  mists  of  doubt 
and  opposition,  and  ascended  the  heavens  full-orbed  and  cloud- 
less, establishing  at  once  his  own  renown  and  that  of  his  pre- 
decessors, and  crowned  with  the  applauses  of  the  world  ;  but 
declaring,  with  that  angelic  modesty  which  marked  his  charac- 
ter, "  I  do  not  know  what  I  may  appear  to  the  world  ;  but  to 
myself  I  seem  to  have  been  only  like  a  boy,  playing  on  the  sea- 
shore, and  diverting  myself  in  finding  now  and  then  a  pebble, 
or  a  prettier  shell  than  ordinary,  while  the  great  ocean  of  truth 
lay  all  undiscovered  before  me."* 

But  whether  the  progress  of  any  particular  discovery  toward 
a  general  reception  be  prompt  or  tardy,  it  is  one  of  the  laws  of 
intellectual  influence,  as  it  is  one  of  the  great  principles,  on 
which  we  maintain,  that  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge  is 
favorable  to  the  growth  of  science,  that  whatsoever  be  the  for- 
tune of  inventors  and  discoverers,  the  invention  and  discovery 
are  immortal, — the  teacher  dies  in  honor  or  neglect,  but  his 
doctrine  survives.  Faggots  may  consume  his  frame,  but  the 
truths  he  taught,  like  the  spirit  it  enclosed,  can  never  die. 
Partial  and  erroneous  views  may  even  retard  his  own  mind,  in 
the  pursuit  of  a  fruitful  thought; — but  the  errors  of  one  age 
are  the  guides  of  the  next ;  and  the  failure  of  one  great  mind 
but  puts  its  successor  on  a  different  track,  and  teaches  him  to 
approach  the  object  from  a  new  point  of  observation. 

In  estimating  the  effect  of  a  popular  system  of  education 
upon  the  growth  of  science,  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  a 
circumstance,  in  which  the  present  age  and  that  which  pre- 
ceded it,  are  strongly  discriminated  from  former  periods ;  and 
that  is  the  vastly  greater  extent,  to  which  science  exists  among 
men,  who  do  not  desire  to  be  known  to  the  world  as  authors. 
*  Brewster's  Life  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  p.  301. 


27 

Since  the  dawn  of  civilization  on  Egypt  and  Asia  Minor,  there 
never  have  been  wanting  individuals,  sometimes  many  flourish- 
ing at  the  same  time, — who  have  made  the  most  distinguished 
attainments  in  knowledge.  Such,  however,  has  been  the  con- 
dition of  the  world,  that  they  formed  a  class  by  themselves. 
Their  knowledge  was  transmitted  in  schools,  often  under  strict 
injunctions  of  seci'ecy ;  or  if  recorded  in  books, — for  want  of 
the  press  and  owing  to  the  constitution  of  society, — it  made  but 
little  impression  on  the  mass  of  the  community  and  the  busi- 
ness of  life.  As  far  as  there  is  any  striking  exception  to  this 
remark,  it  is  in  the  free  states  of  antiquity,  in  which  through 
the  medium  of  the  popular  organization  of  the  governments, 
and  the  necessity  of  constant  appeals  to  the  people,  the  culti- 
vated intellect  was  brought  into  close  association  with  the 
understandings  of  the  majority  of  men.  This  fact  may  perhaps 
go  far  to  explain  the  astonishing  energy  and  enduring  power  of 
the  Grecian  civilization,  which  remains  to  this  day,  after  all  that 
has  been  said  to  explain  it,  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  facts 
in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.  But  from  the  period  of  the 
downfall  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  more  especially  after  the 
establishment  of  the  feudal  system,  the  division  of  the  commu- 
nity into  four  castes,  viz.  the  landed  aristocracy,  or  nobles  and 
gentry ;  the  spiritual  aristocracy  or  priesthood ;  the  inhabitants 
of  the  cities ;  and  the  peasantry ;  (a  division,  which  has  in  mod- 
ern Europe  been  considerably  modified, — in  some  countries 
more,  and  in  some  less, — but  in  none  wholly  obliterated,) — the 
action  and  manifestation  of  knowledge  were,  till  a  comparatively 
recent  period,  almost  monopolized  by  the  two  higher  classes  ; 
and  in  their  hands  it  assumed  in  a  great  degree  a  literary,  by 
which  I  mean,  a  book  form.  Such,  of  course,  must  ever,  with 
reasonable  qualifications,  continue  to  be  the  case ;  and  books 
will  ever  be,  in  a  great  degree,  the  vehicle,  by  which  knowl- 
edge is  to  be  communicated,  preserved  and  transmitted. 

But  it  is  impossible  to  overlook  the  fact, — it  is  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  features  of  the  civilization  of  the  age,  that 
this  is  far  less  exclusively  the  case,  than  at  any  former  period. 
The  community  is  filled  with  an  incalculable  amount  of  unwrit- 
ten knowledge,  of  science  which  never  will  be  committed  to 
paper  by  the  active  men   who  possess  it,  and  which  has  been 


28 

acquired  on  the  basis  of  a  good  education,  by  observation,  ex- 
perience, and  the  action  of  the  mind  itself.  A  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago,  it  is  doubtful  whether,  out  of  the  observatories 
and  universities,  there  were  ten  men  in  Europe  who  could  as- 
certain the  longitude  by  lunar  observation.  At  the  present 
day,  scarce  a  vessel  sails  to  foreign  lands,  in  the  public  or  mer- 
cantile service,  in  which  the  process  is  not  understood.  In 
like  manner,  in  our  manufacturing  establishments,  in  the  con- 
struction and  direction  of  railroads  and  canals,  on  the  improved 
farms  throughout  the  country,  there  is  possessed,  embodied, 
and  brought  into  action,  a  vast  deal  of  useful  knowledge,  of 
which  its  possessors  will  never  make  a  literary  use,  for  the 
composition  of  a  book,  but  which  is  daily  employed  to  the  sig- 
nal advantage  of  the  country.  Much  of  it  is  directly  derived 
from  a  study  of  the  great  book  of  nature,  whose  pages  are 
written  by  the  hand  of  God ;  and  in  no  part  of  the  civilized 
world,  has  it  been  more  faithfully  or  profitably  studied  than  in 
New  England.  The  intelhgent  population  of  the  country, 
furnished  with  the  keys  of  knowledge  at  our  institutions  of  ed- 
ucation, have  addressed  themselves  to  the  further  acquisition 
of  useful  science, — to  its  acquisition  at  once  and  application, — 
with  a  vigor,  a  diligence,  a  versatility,  and  a  success,  which 
are  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed,  that  I  wish  to  disconnect  this  diffu- 
sive science,  from  that  which  is  recorded  and  propagated  in 
books ;  to  do  this  would  be  to  reverse  the  error  of  former  ages. 
It  is  the  signal  improvement  of  the  present  day,  that  the  action 
and  reaction  of  book-learning  and  general  intelligence  are  so 
prompt,  intense,  and  all-pervading.  The  moment  a  discovery 
is  made,  a  principle  demonstrated,  a  proposition  advanced 
through  the  medium  of  the  press,  in  any  part  of  the  world,  it 
finds  immediately  a  host,  numberless  as  the  sands  of  the  sea, 
prepared  to  take  it  up,  to  canvass,  confirm,  refute,  or  pursue  it. 
At  every  waterfall,  on  the  line  of  every  canal  and  railroad,  in 
the  counting-room  of  every  factory  and  mercantile  establish- 
ment, on  the  quarter-deck  of  every  ship  which  navigates  the 
high  seas,  on  the  farm  of  every  intelligent  husbandman,  in  the 
workshop  of  every  skilful  mechanic,  at  the  desk  of  the  school- 
master, in  the  office  of  the  lawyer,  the  study  of  the  physician 


29 

and  clergyman,  at  the  fireside  of  every  man,  who  has  had  the 
elements  of  a  good  education,  not  less  than  in  the  professed 
retreats  of  learning,  there  is  an  intellect  to  seize,  to  weigh,  and 
appropriate  the  suggestion,  whether  it  belong  to  the  world  of 
science,  of  taste,  or  of  morals. 

In  some  countries  there  may  be  more  and  in  some  less  of 
this  latent  intellectual  power  ; — latent  I  call  it,  in  reference 
not  to  its  action  on  life,  but  to  its  display  in  books.  In  some 
countries,  the  books  are  in  advance  of  the  people,  in  others 
greatly  behind  them.  In  Europe,  as  compared  with  America, 
the  advantage  is  in  favor  of  the  books.  The  restraint  imposed 
upon  the  mind,  in  reference  to  all  pohtical  questions,  has  had 
the  effect  of  driving  more  than  a  proportion  of  the  intellect  of 
that  part  of  the  world  into  the  cultivation  of  science  and  litera- 
ture, as  a  profession  ;  and  if  we  were  to  judge  merely  from  the 
character  of  a  few  great  works  published  at  the  expense  of  the 
Government,  and  the  attainments  of  a  few  individuals,  Italy 
and  Austria  would  stand  on  a  level  with  Great  Britain  and 
France.  The  great  difference  between  nation  and  nation,  in 
reference  to  knowledge,  is  in  fact,  in  no  small  degree,  in  this 
very  distinction.  In  reference  to  the  attainments  of  scholars 
and  men  of  science  by  profession,  of  which  some  few  are 
found  in  every  civihzed  country,  all  nations  may  be  consid- 
ered as  forming  one  intellectual  republic,  but  in  reference  to 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge  among  the  people  ;  its  action  on 
the  character  of  nations  ;  its  fruitful  influence  on  society, — the 
most  important  differences  exist  between  different  countries. 

III.  There  remains  to  be  discussed  the  last  topic  of  our 
Address,  the  influence  of  a  general  diffusion  of  knowledge  on 
morals,  a  point  which,  if  it  were  debatable,  would  raise  a 
question  of  portentous  import ; — for  if  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge is  unfriendly  to  goodness,  shall  we  take  refuge  in  the  reign 
of  ignorance?  What  is  the  precise  question  on  which,  in  this 
connexion,  rational  scruples  may  be  started,  deserving  a  serious 
answer  ? 

The  merits  of  the  case  may,  I  believe,  be  stated  somewhat 
as  follows  : — that  there  seems,  in  individuals,  no  fixed  propor- 
tion between  intellectual  and  moral  growth.     Eminent  talent 


30 

and  distinguished  attainment  are  sometimes  connected  with  ob- 
liquity of  character.  Of  those,  who  have  reached  the  heights 
of  speculative  science,  not  all  are  entitled  to  the  commendation 
bestowed  on  Sir  William  Jones, — that  he  was  "  learned,  with- 
out pride  ;  and  not  too  wise  to  pray  ;  "  and  one  entire  class 
of  men  of  letters  and  science,  the  French  philosophers  of  the 
last  century,  were,  as  a  body, — though  by  no  means  without 
honorable  exceptions, — notorious  for  a  disbelief  of  revealed 
religion ;  an  insensibility  to  the  delicacies  of  moral  restraint ; 
a  want  of  that  purity  of  feeling  and  character,  which  we 
would  gladly  consider  the  inseparable  attendant  of  intellec- 
tual cultivation.  It  is  a  question  of  deep  interest,  whether, 
from  these  facts,  and  others  like  them,  any  thing  can  be  fairly 
deduced,  unfavorable  to  the  moral  influence  of  a  diffusion  of 
knowledge. 

No  country  in  Europe  had  retained  more  of  the  feudal  divi- 
sions than  France  before  the  Revolution.  A  partition  of  the 
orders  of  society,  but  little  less  rigid  than  the  oriental  economy 
of  castes,  was  kept  up.  Causes,  which  time  would  fail  us  to 
develope,  had  rendered  the  court  and  capital  of  France  signal- 
ly corrupt,  during  the  last  century.  It  is  doubtful  whether,  in 
a  civilized  state,  the  foundations  of  social  morality  were  ever 
so  totally  subverted.  It  was  by  no  means  one  of  the  least  ac- 
tive causes  of  this  corruption,  that  all  connexion  between  the 
court  and  capital,  and  the  higher  ranks  in  general,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  people  on  the  other,  was  cut  off  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  society,  and  the  hopeless  depression,  degradation,  and 
ignorance  of  the  mass  of  the  people.  Under  these  influences, 
the  school  of  the  encyclopedists  was  trained.  They  did  not 
make,  they  found  the  corruption.  They  were  reared  in  it. 
They  grew  up  in  the  presence  and  under  the  patronage  of  a 
most  dissolute  court,  surrounded  by  the  atmosphere  of  an  aban- 
doned metropolis,  without  the  constraint,  the  corrective,  or  the 
check  of  a  wholesome  public  sentiment,  emanating  from  an 
intelligent  and  virtuous  population.  The  great  monitors  of 
society  were  hushed.  The  pulpit,  not  over  active  at  that  lime 
as  a  moral  teacher  in  the  Catholic  church  in  Europe,  was  struck 
dumb,  for  some  of  the  highest  dignitaries  were  stained  with  all 
the  vices  of  the  rest  of  their  order,  that  of  the  nobility  ;  and 


31 

some  of  the  most  virtuous  and  eloquent  of  the  prelates  had  been 
obliged  to  exhaust  their  talents  in  panegyrics  of  the  frail  but 
royal  dead.  The  press  was  mute  on  every  thing  which  touched 
the  vices  of  the  time.  It  was  not  then  the  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge, from  the  philosophical  circles  of  Paris,  that  corrupted 
France ;  it  was  the  gross  darkness  of  the  provinces,  and  the 
deep  degradation  every  where  of  the  majority  of  the  people, 
which  left  unrebuked  the  depravity  of  the  capital.  It  was  pre- 
cisely a  diffusion  of  knowledge  that  was  wanted.  And  if,  as  I 
doubt  not,  France  at  this  time  is  more  virtuous,  (notwithstand- 
ing the  demoralizing  effects  of  the  Revolution  and  its  wars)  than 
at  any  former  period,  it  is  owing  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge, 
which  has  followed  the  subversion  of  feudalism,  and  the  re- 
generation of  the  provinces.  Paris  has  ceased  to  be  France. 
A  dissolute  court  has  ceased  to  give  the  tone  of  feeling  to  the 
entire  kingdom,  for  an  intelligent  class  of  independent  citizens 
and  husbandmen  has  sprung  up  on  the  ruins  of  a  decayed  land- 
ed aristocracy ;  and  the  reformation  of  France  is  rapidly  going 
on,  in  the  elevation  of  the  intellectual,  and  with  it  the  poHtical, 
social,  and  moral  character  of  the  people. 

I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  argue,  at  length,  against  any 
general  inference  from  individual  cases,  in  which  intellectual 
eminence  has  been  associated  with  moral  depravity.  The 
question  concerns  general  influences  and  natural  tendencies, 
and  must  be  considered  mainly  in  reference  to  the  comparative 
effects  of  ignorance  and  knowledge  on  communities,  nations, 
and  ages.  In  this  reference,  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that 
the  diffusion  of  knowledge  is  friendly  to  the  benign  influence 
of  religion  and  morals.  The  illustrations  of  this  great  truth  are 
so  abundant,  that  I  know  not  where  to  begin  nor  where  to  end 
with  them.  Knowledge  is  the  faithful  ally  both  of  natural  and 
revealed  religion.  Natural  religion  is  one  grand  deduction 
made  by  the  enlightened  understanding,  from  a  faithful  study 
of  the  great  book  of  nature ;  and  the  record  of  revealed  religion, 
contained  in  the  Bible,  is  not  merely  confirmed  by  the  harmo- 
ny which  the  mind  delights  to  trace  between  it  and  the  "  elder 
scripture  writ  by  God's  own  hand  ; "  but  Revelation,  in  all 
ages,  has  called  to  its  aid  the  meditations  and  researches  of 
pious  and  learned  men  ;  and  most  assuredly,  at  every  period, 


32 

for  one  man  of  learning,  superficial  or  profound,  who  has  turn- 
ed the  weapons  of  science  against  religion  or  morals,  hundreds 
have  consecrated  their  labors  to  their  defence.  Christianity  is 
revealed  to  the  mind  of  man,  in  a  peculiar  sense.  To  what 
are  its  hopes,  its  sanctions,  its  precepts  addressed  ;  to  the  phy- 
sical or  the  intellectual  portion  of  his  nature ;  to  the  perishing 
or  the  immortal  element  ?  Is  it  on  ignorance  or  on  knowledge, 
that  its  evidences  repose  ?  Is  it  by  ignorance  or  knowledge, 
that  its  sacred  records  are  translated  from  the  original  tongues, 
into  the  thousands  of  languages,  spoken  in  the  world? — and  if, 
by  perverted  knowledge,  it  has  sometimes  been  attacked,  is  it 
by  ignorance  or  knowledge  that  it  has  been  and  must  be  de- 
fended ?  What  but  knowledge  is  to  prevent  us,  in  short,  from 
being  borne  down  and  carried  away,  by  the  overwhelm- 
ing tide  of  fanaticism  and  delusion,  put  in  motion  by  the 
moon-struck  impostors  of  the  day  ?  Before  we  permit  our- 
selves to  be  agitated  with  painful  doubts  as  to  the  connexion 
of  a  diffusion  of  knowledge  with  religion  and  morals,  let  us  re- 
member that,  in  proportion  to  the  ignorance  of  a  community,  is 
the  ease  with  which  their  belief  can  be  shaken  and  their  assent 
attained  to  the  last  specious  delusion  of  the  day, — till  you  may 
get  down  at  last,  to  a  degree  of  ignorance,  on  which  reason  and 
scripture   are  alike  lost ;  which  is  ready  to  receive  Joe  Smith 

as  an  inspired  prophet,   and  Matthias  as but  shame  and 

horror  forbid  me  to  complete  the  sentence. 

But  this  topic  must  be  treated  in  a  higher  strain.  The  dif- 
fusion of  knowledge  is  not  merely  favorable  to  religion  and 
morals,  but,  in  the  last  and  highest  analysis,  they  cannot  be 
separated  from  each  other.  In  the  great  prototype  of  our 
feeble  ideas  of  perfection,  the  wise  and  the  good  are  so  blend- 
ed together,  that  the  absence  of  one  w^ould  enfeeble  and  impair 
the  other.  There  can  be  no  real  knowledge  of  truth,  which 
does  not  tend  to  purify  and  elevate  the  affections.  A  little 
knowledge, — much  knowledge, — may  not,  in  individual  cases, 
subdue  the  passions  of  a  cold,  corrupt,  and  selfish  heart.  But 
if  knowledge  will  not  do  it,  can  it  be  done  by  the  want  of 
knowledge  ? 

What  is  human  knowledge?  It  is  the  cultivation  and  im- 
provement of  the  spiritual  principle  in  man.     We  are  com- 


33 

posed  of  two  elements ;  the  one  a  little  dust,  caught  up  from 
the  earth,  to  which  we  shall  soon  return,  the  other  a  spark  of 
that  divine  intelligence,  in  which  and  through  which,  we  bear 
the  image  of  the  great  Creator.  By  knowledge,  the  wings  of 
the  intellect  are  spread; — by  ignorance  they  are  closed  and 
palsied ;  and  the  physical  passions  are  left  to  gain  the  ascend- 
ancy. Knowledge  opens  all  the  senses  to  the  wonders  of 
creation  ;  ignorance  seals  them  up,  and  leaves  the  animal  pro- 
pensities unbalanced  by  reflection,  enthusiasm,  and  taste.  To 
the  ignorant  man,  the  glorious  pomp  of  day,  the  sparkling  mys- 
teries of  night,  the  majestic  ocean,  the  rushing  storm,  the 
plenty-bearing  river,  the  salubrious  breeze,  the  fertile  field,  the 
docile  animal  tribes, — the  broad,  the  various,  the  unexhausted 
domain  of  nature  are  a  mere  outward  pageant,  poorly  under- 
stood in  their  character  and  harmony ;  and  prized  only  so  far 
as  they  minister  to  the  supply  of  sensual  wants.  How  differ- 
ent the  scene  to  the  man,  whose  mind  is  stored  with  knowl- 
edge !  For  him  the  mystery  is  unfolded,  the  veils  lifted  up, 
as  one  after  another  he  turns  the  leaves  of  that  great  vol- 
ume of  creation,  which  is  filled  in  every  page  with  the  charac- 
ters of  wisdom,  power,  and  love ;  with  lessons  of  truth  the 
most  exalted ;  with  images  of  unspeakable  loveliness  and  won- 
der ;  arguments  of  Providence ;  food  for  meditation  ;  themes 
of  praise.  One  noble  science  sends  him  to  the  barren  hills, 
and  teaches  him  to  survey  their  broken  precipices.  Where 
ignorance  beholds  nothing  but  a  rough  inorganic  mass  ;  instmc- 
tion  discerns  the  intelligible  record  of  the  primal  convulsions 
of  the  world ;  the  secrets  of  ages  before  man  was  ;  the  land- 
marks of  the  elemental  struggles  and  throes  of  what  is  now 
the  terraqueous  globe.  Buried  monsters,  of  which  the  races 
are  now  extinct,  are  dragged  out  of  deep  strata,  dug  out  of 
eternal  rocks,  and  brought  almost  to  life,  to  bear  witness  to  the 
power  that  created  them.  Before  the  admiring  student  of 
nature  has  realized  all  the  wonders  of  the  elder  world,  thus 
as  it  were  re-created  by  science,  another  delightful  instruc- 
tress, with  her  microscope  in  her  hand,  bids  him  sit  down  and 
learn  at  last  to  know  the  universe,  in  which  he  lives  ;  and  con- 
template the  limbs,  the  motions,  the  circulations  of  races  of 
animals,  disporting  in  their  tempestuous  ocean, — a  drop  of  wa- 
5 


34 

ter.  Then  while  his  whole  soul  is  penetrated  with  admira- 
tion of  the  power  which  has  filled  with  life  and  motion  and 
sense  these  all  but  non-existent  atoms,  oh,  then  let  the  divinest 
of  the  muses,  let  Astronomy  approach,  and  take  him  by  the 
hand ;  let  her 

Come  but  keep  her  wonted  state, 
With  even  step,  and  musing  gate, 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 
Her  rapt  soul  sitting  in  her  eyes ; — 

Let  her  lead  him  to  the  mount  of  vision ;  let  her  turn  her 
heaven-piercing  tube  to  the  sparkling  vault ;  through  that,  let 
him  observe  the  serene  star  of  evening,  and  see  it  transformed 
into  a  cloud-encompassed  orb,  a  world  of  rugged  mountains 
and  stormy  deeps;  or  behold  the  pale  beams  of  Saturn,  lost  to 
the  untaught  observer  amidst  myriads  of  brighter  stars,  and  see 
them  expand  into  the  broad  disk  of  a  noble  planet, — the  seven 
attendant  worlds, — the  wonderous  rings, — a  mighty  system  in 
itself,  borne  at  the  rate  of  twenty-two  thousand  miles  an  hour, 
on  its  broad  pathway  through  the  heavens ;  and  then  let  him 
reflect  that  our  great  solar  system,  of  which  Saturn  and  his 
stupendous  retinue  is  but  a  small  part,  fills  itself,  in  the  general 
structure  of  the  universe,  but  the  space  of  one  fixed  star  ;  and 
that  the  power,  which  filled  the  drop  of  water  with  millions 
of  living  beings,  is  present  and  active,  throughout  this  illimita- 
ble creation  ! — Yes,  yes, 

The  undevout  astronomer  is  mad  ! 

But  it  is  time  to  quit  these  sublime  contemplations,  and 
bring  this  address  to  a  close.  I  may  seem  to  have  undertaken 
a  superfluous  labor,  in  pleading  the  cause  of  education.  This 
institution,  consecrated  to  learning  and  piety;  these  academic 
festivities ;  this  favoring  audience,  which  bestows  its  counte- 
nance on  our  literary  exercises;  the  presence  of  so  many 
young  men,  embarking  on  the  ocean  of  life,  devoted  to  the 
great  interests  of  the  rational  mind  and  immortal  soul,  bear 
witness  for  me,  that  the  cause  of  education  stands  not  here  in 
need  of  champions.  Let  it  be  our  pride,  that  it  has  never 
needed  them,  among  the  descendants  of  the  pilgrims;  let  it  be 
our  vow,  that,  by  the  blessing  of  Providence,  it  never  shall 
need  them,  so  long  as  there  is  a  descendant  of  the  pilgrims  to 


35 

plead  its  worth.  Yes,  let  the  pride  of  military  glory  belong 
to  foreign  regions ;  let  the  refined  corruptions  of  the  older 
world  attract  the  traveller  to  its  splendid  capitals ;  let  a  fervid 
sun  ripen,  for  other  states,  the  luxuries  of  a  tropical  clime. 
Let  it  be  ours  to  boast  that  we  inherit  a  land  of  liberty  and 
light ; — let  the  schoolhouse  and  the  church  continue  to  be  the 
landmarks  of  the  New  England  village  ;  let  the  son  of  New 
England,  whithersoever  he  may  wander,  leave  that  behind 
him,  which  shall  make  him  homesick  for  his  native  land;  let 
freedom  and  knowledge  and  morals  and  religion,  as  they  are 
our  birthright,  be  the  birthright  of  our  children  to  the  end  of 
time! 


Erratum. — Page  7,  line  11,  for  inverse  read  direct. 


